Could Have Been A Knife
by Lady Dudley
Summary: Based on the Elementary episode "Details" and set after TRF: Despite not being named by Moriarty, Sherlock realises that Molly could still be vulnerable and decides to remedy the situation.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This has been sitting in my files for a while now and I decided to revisit it. It's based on the _Elementary_ episode "Details" and set after TRF on the understanding that Sherlock stayed with Molly from time to time. Anyways, hope you enjoy!**

"I never thought you would be stupid enough to attempt to walk home in the _dark_, in _London_, dressed like _that_," Sherlock lectured Molly, the harshness of his tone belying his concern as he ushered her into her flat.

"Shall we review _why_ I'm dressed like this?" Molly asked, sinking into a chair wearily.

Sherlock frowned and said nothing.

Part of the reason he'd lent her his coat was because he didn't wish to dwell on certain aspects of the evening; particularly her attire and the reasons behind it.

He watched in silence as she toed off her heels, sighing a little in contentment as she wiggled her toes.

"That's better," she said softly, hugging his coat closer around her small frame and closing her eyes.

He'd never thought of his coat as being particularly large, but Molly looked positively dwarfed by it. He felt his chest tighten uncomfortably as he took in just how small and vulnerable she seemed in that moment.

He shuddered inwardly as he considered what might have happened in the alley if he hadn't come along.

The mugger had had a knife after all.

Molly rubbed her eyes, "Why are you staring at me?" she asked through a yawn.

"I'm not staring," he replied defensively, "I'm making sure you're not injured."

_Liar_, he berated himself, but Molly either didn't notice or let the comment slide.

"It's been a long night," she said finally, "I'll see you in the morning," she added, standing up and slipping out of his coat, revealing the russet coloured dress that left very little to the imagination.

The dress that made it very difficult for him to keep his eyes off her and (for some bizarre reason) his hands. Another reason why he had been so angry in the alley: Molly Hooper was _his_ and that man had no right to touch her.

"Thanks for your coat," she added, handing the item in question back to him and padding down the hallway to her bedroom.

"Good night," he called after her belatedly.

She waved a hand in his direction, stifling another yawn with the other, as she disappeared into her room.

Sherlock sat down on the couch, thinking.

Molly was one of the few people in his life who had morphed from a permanent fixture into a much needed and valued _person_. The problem was that she had done so without his knowledge and almost without his consent.

He had been relieved that Moriarty hadn't thought to put her in the same league as John and the others as it meant it gave him a connection with his life, it gave him an anchor. It meant that one person that he cared about was safe.

But this evening when he'd rescued Molly from her attacker he'd realised that she wasn't as safe as he'd always assumed. Moriarty didn't have to have her in his sights; she could still be taken from him at any time which was unacceptable.

Before he left to continue dismantling Moriarty's web he would make sure that he left her able to properly defend herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly woke up slowly the next morning and groaned.

She had a dull ache in the back of her calves from wearing heels that were much too high and was still a little stiff from when she'd been slammed into a wall during her attack.

She rubbed her eyes; thank God Sherlock had been there.

The memory of how angry and protective he had been during her rescue made her smile and warmed her heart a little. Sometimes actions spoke louder than words and she realised that it wasn't until the moment when he was disarming her assailant (with much more force than necessary) that she truly believed that she counted.

That happy thought was lost the moment she stepped out of her bedroom and realised that Sherlock was gone.

She reminded herself that she should be used to his leaving by now and that she shouldn't let it get to her so much; he'd already explained that the less she knew about his movements the better.

Although she usually at least got a good bye.

Deciding that she wouldn't dwell on it, she made her way into the kitchen to put the kettle on and feed Toby. Absently humming a tune, she didn't notice that there was someone else in her flat.

Until that someone threw a tennis ball at her back.

"Ow!"

She whirled around to find Sherlock standing in the doorway, "What was that for?" she demanded.

"It could have been a knife," he told her and she stared at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"It could have been a knife," he repeated slowly, "you didn't even realise that I was still in your flat, what would you have done if I was a threat?" he demanded.

"I'm not so sure you're not," Molly muttered, turning back to the kettle as it stopped boiling.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her back, "I…" he began before stopping himself as he realised he almost said 'I need.' Molly turned around expectantly.

"I just want you to be safe, Molly," he told her instead, congratulating himself on his new choice of word, "you should be prepared in case something happens."

Molly smiled at him and Sherlock had the uncomfortable feeling that she knew what lay behind his words, things that he wasn't ready to think about let alone articulate.

Especially as he was planning on leaving again within the next few days, the lead they had gotten the night before might just be the key to bringing down the last of Moriarty's network.

Molly was still watching him and he pursed his lips slightly; she had developed the disarming ability to see right through him, to _deduce_ him, and he wasn't entirely sure he liked it.

"I'll be fine," she assured him, taking a sip of her coffee, "no one's after me, remember? And I certainly won't be dressing like _that_ any time soon," she added cheerfully.

Sherlock suppressed a grimace at the memory, when he'd asked her to help him by posing as a cabaret singer he hadn't expected her to be any good at it. Much less that the memory of her in that figure hugging dress and singing would haunt his Mind Palace, refusing to be deleted.

He coughed, "Well, I need to conduct some more research before I leave," he said briskly, spinning on his heel and making a beeline for her computer.

Although roughly the same size as 221B Molly's flat suddenly seemed very small; a curiosity that never occurred when he was living with John.

...

**A/N: This scene was taken almost directly from "Details" but I have some other chapters and I have actually almost finished the whole story. However, I will be posting at different intervals in case there are scenarios people would like to see :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews/favourites - I'm glad you're enjoying this story :) I first heard this song on _The Sapphires_ soundtrack and it always makes me think of Molly, I've wanted to use it ever since. Hope you enjoy :D**

"_Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch  
You know that I love you  
I can't help myself  
I love you and nobody else"_

Molly sang absently to herself as she shampooed her hair, thinking about to the evening before when she'd sung this exact song on stage.

At first she'd felt a little ridiculous and _very_ self-conscious about what Sherlock had asked her to do, but as soon as the music had started she'd actually enjoyed herself.

"_In and out my life_  
_You come and you go_  
_Leaving just your picture behind_  
_And I've kissed it a thousand times_  
_When you snap your fingers, or wink you eye,_  
_I come a-running to you_  
_I'm tied to your apron strings,_  
_And there's nothing that I can do_"

Still singing, she rinsed out her hair and turned off the water.

Humming to herself, she stepped out of the shower and screamed as the door suddenly burst open and a masked figure came rushing into the room.

Molly grabbed her towel and started throwing random objects at the figure with a speed she didn't know she possessed as she desperately tried to keep up her assault and wrap the towel around her small frame at the same time.

She started to panic as the figure showed no signs of retreating as they dodged the items with apparent ease. In a fit of desperation, she picked up the toilet brush and started to beat them with it as they got into range.

The figure still seemed undeterred and made a grab for a towel; this time Molly retaliated with considerable force, bringing the toilet brush down heavily on their head.

"Excellent," said a familiar voice and Molly almost dropped the brush in shock.

"That last shot was much more forceful than the others," Sherlock complimented her as he removed the mask, "next time I suggest you put as much force behind all your hits."

"The next-? Sherlock! I was _in the shower_!" she shrieked.

Sherlock looked unperturbed, "I know, that's what I came in."

"But…I was…in the _shower_," she spluttered.

Sherlock's brow creased in confusion, "I know, we've established that. You can't choose the time and place that someone will attack you."

He turned to leave and Molly threw the toilet brush at him, hitting him in the back of the head.

He turned around slowly.

"I don't care what excuse you're going to come up with," Molly huffed, "don't you _dare_ invade my bathroom again."

Sherlock pursed his lips, "It's for-"

"Stop," Molly commanded, "don't even try, just…get out," she ordered.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed a little as he gauged her mood, before deeming it best to follow her instructions.

Molly locked the door behind him with shaky hands, not quite trusting him not to come in again.

On the other side of the door, Sherlock retreated to the couch, trying to make sense of Molly's fury and to delete the image of her clad only in a towel.

In regards to the former, he made some headway and admitted that he had perhaps overstepped his bounds in his bid to make sure she was able to defend herself. In regards to the latter, he was completely unsuccessful.

...

**A/N: I should probably mention that I'm not very good at writing action, so I apologise if you find the 'flow' a bit weird :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks again for the support :) Remember to let me know if there's a scenario you'd like to see x**

Molly stifled a yawn behind her hand as she left St. Bart's; it had been a long day and all she wanted to do was to go home and sleep.

Unfortunately, fate had something else in store and she had barely gotten a block away from the hospital when someone ran past, wrenching her bag off her should as they went. Molly didn't even think and instinctively grabbed hold of the strap, tugging it and her assailant back towards her.

The mugger pulled back roughly, trying to rip it from her grasp but Molly was in no mood to give up so easily and hauled it back towards her with even more force.

The tug-o-war continued for a few more moments and Molly was just beginning to wonder if it was the best idea to take on a mugger considering her past experience, when he suddenly let go. Molly stumbled back a few paces, clutching the bag towards her and preparing to run.

"I thought the proper response to being mugged was to _not_ fight back," Sherlock commented as he pulled off his mask, stopping Molly in her tracks.

"You…you just tried to rob me," Molly said accusingly, ignoring his comment.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "No," he explained with forced patience, "I wanted to see how you would react."

"Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?" she demanded, slinging her bag back over her shoulder.

Sherlock's brow furrowed, "Why would I want to do that?"

"It's just an-" she broke off with a shake of her head, "It doesn't matter, I'm going home," she declared, brushing passed him.

"I'll walk you back," Sherlock said easily, falling into step with her.

"No!" Molly snapped, stepping away from him, "Please, just…don't."

Sherlock looked confused and a little hurt by her outburst, "I was only trying to-"

"Help," Molly finished for him, calming a little, "I know, but…it's been a long day, Sherlock, I just want to go home," she said, walking away before he could reply.

Two hours later a slightly sheepish Sherlock let himself into Molly's flat, she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he shuffled into the living room and took a seat next to her on the couch.

He watched the TV with her in silence for a few moments before he spoke, "I'm sorry."

Molly's mouth twitched, "No you're not," she said lightly, still concentrating on the TV.

Sherlock thought for a moment, "I'm sorry that I scared you," he clarified.

This time Molly didn't hide her smile, "I forgive you."

Sherlock gave a brief nod, "Good."

"At least I had clothes on this time," Molly observed after a moment, shooting him a smile.

Sherlock's only response was a noncommittal 'hmm' as he tried to suppress the images that comment brought to mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks again for the support :) Hope you enjoy! x**

Molly grumbled a little as her bag slid off her shoulder while she struggled through the door with her groceries. Still muttering under her breath as she made her way to the kitchen, she missed the trip wire someone had placed across the doorway and ended up sprawled on the kitchen floor.

She had barely enough time to adjust to this latest development before someone dragged her to her feet. Instinctively she lashed out, trying desperately to free herself from their grasp, her attempts becoming more and more desperate as she failed to make any headway.

Finally, in a burst of inspiration, she remembered a scene from _Miss Congeniality_ and adopted the 'S.I.N.G' method, surprising herself as her assailant grunted and released her.

She didn't dwell on her surprise for long as she rushed towards the phone, picking up the receiver she quickly dialled the number before glancing anxiously over her shoulder to check on her attacker.

She narrowed her eyes and hung up the phone as she recognised Sherlock sitting on the arm of her couch, cradling his bloody nose.

"Impressive," he commented as she came over to join him.

"It's amazing what you can learn from movies, despite what _you_ might think about their plotlines," she informed him, crossing her arms.

He looked up at her with a pitiful expression, she raised an eyebrow.

"A tissue would be nice," he said after a moment, as Molly made no move to help him.

"Oh no, you're on your own with this one," she informed him as she walked away and started to pick up her groceries. "If you're going to insist on pulling stunts like this, you can deal with the outcome."

Sherlock pouted and watched as she continued to ignore him as she cleaned up the mess in the kitchen. He sighed heavily and went to clean himself up, missing Molly bite her lip to keep from giggling at his sulky expression.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: My humblest apologies for the delay, a few things came up and I didn't get around to updating. Thank you for all your support! This chapter is based on a prompt from LadyK1138 - hope you like! **

Molly hummed to herself as she slipped a CD into the machine, Sherlock was out so she didn't have to worry about disturbing him. She smiled as the music started to play and, turning up the volume, she sauntered back into the kitchen.

Unconsciously she breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into the kitchen unmolested. She wasn't sure what had gotten into Sherlock lately but it was nice not to have to worry if he was hiding behind the door.

That thought gave her paused and she checked, just in case she'd missed something. She shook her head with a rueful smile: no Sherlock, she was safe.

Absently bopping along with the music coming from the living room, Molly started to gather the ingredients for the batch of biscuits she was going to make. Sherlock didn't eat regular meals, but she'd noticed that if she left snacks lying around they usually got eaten.

She smiled as the next song started and stepped out of the kitchen briefly to turn the music up just a little louder.

_Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister  
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister_

_He met Marmalade down in old New Orleans  
Struttin' her stuff on the street  
She said, "Hello, hey Joe  
You wanna give it a go?"_

Unable to resist any longer, Molly started to sing along as she started beating the butter, sugar and egg together.

"_Mmm, gitchi gitchi ya ya da da  
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here  
Mocha chocolata ya ya  
Creole Lady Marmalade_

_Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?  
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?_

_He sat in her boudoir while she freshened up  
That boy drank all that magnolia wine  
On her black satin sheets where  
He started to freak_

_Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da  
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here  
Mocha chocalata ya ya  
Creole Lady Marmalade_

_Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?  
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?"_

Still singing, Molly set the electric beater aside and started to sift some flour into the bowl.

"_He come through with the money and the garter bags  
Let him know we 'bout that cake straight out the gate, uh  
We independent women, some mistake us for whores  
I'm saying why spend mine when I can spend yours  
Disagree, well that's you and I'm sorry  
I'm keep playing these cats out like Atari  
Wear high-heeled shoes, get love from the dudes  
Four bad-ass chicks from the Moulin Rouge  
Hey sistas, soul sistas, better get that dough, sistas  
We drink wine with diamonds in the glass by the case  
The meaning of expensive taste  
You wanna gitchie, gitchie, ya ya  
Mocha chocalata, what  
Creole Lady Marmalade"_

Molly's performance was interrupted as she accidentally knocked over the flour. She sighed heavily as she set the sifter aside and left the kitchen to get the dustpan and broom.

Still humming to herself she opened the broom cupboard and blinked in surprise.

"Should you be inviting men to your bed so indiscriminately?" Sherlock asked after a moment as though it was perfectly normal to find him in her cupboard.

"I wasn't…I…" she faltered, Sherlock raised an eyebrow and she pursed her lips. "What are _you_ doing in the cupboard?" she asked, arching an eyebrow in return.

It was Sherlock's turn to be a little flustered, "Research," he said finally, stepping around her.

"Research?" she repeated, picking up the dustpan and broom. "What could you hope to learn hiding in my broom cupboard?" she asked as she straightened and closed the cupboard.

"Well, for a start, you have appalling taste in music," Sherlock replied, not quite meeting her eye as he moved to turn the music off.

Molly narrowed her eyes as she followed him into the living room, "This was another way to scare me witless wasn't it?"

"I am not trying to scare you witless," Sherlock retorted, flopping onto the couch. "In fact, I'd prefer it if you kept your wits," he added, shifting into a more comfortable position.

Molly eyed him suspiciously for a few moments before returning to the kitchen.

"You're lucky I love you," she grumbled to herself, before blushing deeply as she realised what she said.

She glanced back at Sherlock, but he seemed to have retreated into his Mind Palace; relieved she turned back to the biscuits, missing Sherlock's smirk.

...

**A/N: As I mentioned at the start, I do have the end chapters pretty well finished but if there's anything else you can suggest/would like to see please let me know! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks again for the support (especially those of you who review as a guest - I can't thank you personally, but I do appreciate it! x). Again, this is an added chapter/scenario that I thought of - please let me know if you think of others, otherwise I'll start posting the 'end sequence.' Hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

Molly did a final visual check of the morgue as she snapped off the light and shut the door; fumbling with her keys she didn't notice the masked figure standing in the shadows until almost the last moment.

She gave a terrified yelp as she dashed back inside the morgue, desperately she tried to shut the door but her assailant was too strong and burst through. Molly evaded their grasp and scuttled away, disappearing into the darkened room and searching desperately for her phone.

She found a spot behind one of the tables as she retrieved her phone. She looked around, trying to get a fix on where her attacker was in case she might be able to sneak past them to the door.

The room was eerily quiet and she hunched over her phone to hide the light as she absently typed in a number. She held it up to her ear with trembling fingers and her brow furrowed as the first few bars of 'Edelweiss' started to play somewhere in the morgue.

The lights suddenly snapped back on.

"You called _me_?" asked a familiar voice in surprise.

Molly narrowed her eyes as she ended the call and stood up, "Sherlock, this has to stop," she said flatly.

Sherlock continued to study his phone in confusion. "You called me," he repeated as though she hadn't spoken, "why did you call me?" he asked, looking up.

"Why not?" she huffed, still a little irritated.

"Because I'm dead," he replied evenly, watching Molly carefully.

Molly seemed to freeze a little at his words and he watched, fascinated, as different emotions flittered across her face as she considered this.

"Perhaps Lestrade or John would be more appropriate in future," he suggested quietly after a moment. He paused, "At least until I return."

Molly smiled faintly at his caveat, "I thought you didn't like rescuing damsels in distress," she teased after a moment, picking up her bag and coming to join him by the door.

"Depends on the damsel," Sherlock replied distractedly as he checked the corridor was clear before holding the door open for her. Molly looked up at him in surprise, but Sherlock didn't appear to realise what he'd said and he slipped away to make his own exit from St. Bart's.

Molly shook her head a little as she locked the morgue; it was only much later that she realised she still hadn't succeeded in convincing him to stop.

...

**A/N: I remember reading someone's head canon/story that Sherlock had personalised his ringtones for people and I really liked that idea. Hence why 'Edelweiss' is his ringtone for Molly (if you are unfamiliar with the song, look it up and you'll see why I chose it) :D****  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks again for all the support - hope you enjoy this next installment :)**

Molly woke up slowly with the uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching her. She stifled a groan; she'd had a long day and she knew that tomorrow wouldn't be any better, the last thing she needed was for Toby to decide he was bored.

"I'm sleeping, Toby," she said blearily, rubbing her eyes as she sat up.

She let out a shriek at the sight of the man silhouetted beside her bed and hastily retreated to the other side. She stifled another terrified shriek as the silhouette moved and she found herself pinned to the bed.

"Let me go," she cried desperately as she struggled against their hold, "please," she added as their hold on her tightened.

In a sudden burst of adrenaline, Molly freed her legs from under the blanket and kneed her assailant in the stomach. Her attack caused them to loosen their hold enough for her to break free and she ran to the door.

She was quick but her assailant was quicker and she skidded to a stop as they suddenly blocked the doorway.

She huffed a little in annoyance and backed away, fumbling behind her for something to defend herself as they strode towards her. She let out a little squeal of surprise as she tripped over Toby and she ended up sitting on the ground.

The figure loomed out of the darkness above her and Molly started throwing shoes in their direction. She smirked a little in satisfaction as one made contact with what she took to be their face.

"Ouch," complained a familiar voice and Molly paused in her shoe throwing.

"Sherlock?" she questioned.

"Do you _always_ go for the nose?" he muttered.

Molly narrowed her eyes, "Do you _always_ have to sneak up on me?" she retorted, "I was sleeping."

"Exactly," he replied, "how many times do I have to explain to you that you can't choose the circumstances of your attack?" he asked with a long suffering sigh.

Molly's only response was to throw another shoe at him; she smiled a little at his indignant exclamation as it made contact. "You can't choose the circumstances of your attack," she told him with a touch of petulance as she got to her feet.

"You're angry," he said after a moment.

"I'm too tired to be angry," she replied as she climbed back into bed, "but I will be angry if you don't let me get some sleep before my shift tomorrow," she added, pulling the blanket up and closing her eyes.

She opened her eyes a fraction to glare at him as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm leaving tomorrow," he said quietly, "I'm not sure when I'll be back," he added.

Molly reached for his hand, "Stay safe," she said softly, as concern replaced the vestiges of her annoyance.

The darkness hid his smirk, "I was about to say the same thing to you," he replied, giving her hand a small squeeze before he got to his feet.

"At least I won't have to worry about you scaring me out of my wits," she quipped, stifling a yawn.

Sherlock chuckled, "Good night Molly."

"Good night, Sherlock," she said with a small smile as her eyes drifted shut.

She would never be sure, but just before she fell asleep she could have sworn that someone pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

When she got up the next morning, Sherlock was gone; although she did check any and all hiding places in her flat, just to be sure.

...

**A/N: Don't panic, this isn't the last chapter but I didn't get any more suggestions (aside from one I've already incorporated later on) so I'm starting to wind it down :)**


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